Ironic Star Trek Deaths: Voyager
by Chaotic Boredom
Summary: YES! Time to kill off the character you hate in the most ironic way possible! I have a large number of rather ironic deaths, but suggestions are always welcome. Seven is up! Yes! I have killed her!
1. Poor imitation of main theme

**Ironic Star Trek Deaths**

Yes, I have no life, so I've come up with what I believe would be the most ironic deaths for each of the characters in Star Trek: Voyager. Don't get me wrong, it's awesome show; just thought this could be amusing. Some of the ideas are from my friend who happens to love Voyager. Feel free to e-mail me if you think there is a more ironic way for a character to die. They are extremely short stories. TNG and the Original deaths will follow, as for DS9, my personal favorite; I need to have a brainstorming session with my friend again for those. Not that she'd be much help. She never watches it anyway. Check out her stories under Shawshank penname. I'm rambling. Oh, yes. I do not own any of these actors, know them personally, do not own Voyager, or any part of it, but the warp core might be nice, and I am not affiliated with any thing to do with Star Trek Voyager, or any Star Trek for that matter. Let's start the deaths!


	2. Captain Kathryn Janeway

Captain Kathryn Janeway

**Day 1**

Captain Janeway stumbled through Voyager's corridor.

"Must…get…coffee…" The replicator in her quarters was, as usual; mad at her for the now ancient glorified toaster remark. She didn't have the time or energy to rip its guts out and fix it, so she was going to have to get her morning coffee fix somewhere else. Her destination was the captain's ready room. The mess hall would be too crowded with eager young ensigns trying to make small talk to their CO; they couldn't see her like this. With slightly shaky hands, she entered the turbolift.

"Bridge! And some coffee" she murmured to herself.

"Unspecified command, please clarify." She didn't have time to respond to the computer. The turbolift slowed, and through the fuzz covering her brain, she straightened up, hoping Ensign Kim wouldn't have anything to say, ask, or report. The doors opened and Janeway made a beeline for her ready room. Speed walking past Tuvok, ignoring B'Elanna's open mouth, and Chakotay reaching over to pass her a PADD, and through the door. Safe at last. Striding over with much less confidence then previously displayed, she moved in the general direction of the replicator.

"Coffee, black!" She gave a slow sigh as she reached in. Nothing!

"Command unrecognized, please restate."

"Coffee, black."

"Command unrecognized, please restate."

"Coffee! Black!"

"Command unrecognized, please restate."

"Computer, what is status of this replicator?"

"Replicator is functioning within specified parameters."

"Then why won't it give me a cup of coffee?"

"Query not recognized, please restate."

"Janeway to Lieutenant Torres,"

"Torres here,"

"Could you please come in here?"

When Torres entered, Janeway restated her question, with a very forced politeness.

"I was trying to tell you that when you first came on to the bridge, Captain. Ensign Vorik was trying to cut down on the amount of power the replicators use, and he accidentally deleted several patterns and phrases from the computer banks. He is trying to correct his error, but things are not looking good."

"And the patterns and phrases that were deleted?"

"They are all on this PADD. I can assign Ensign Kim to help Vorik."

"Do it." Janeway said this rather weakly, and B'Elanna knew exactly why. Heading the list of thirty or so phrases and patterns was coffee. This was going to be tough on the captain.

**Day 3**

The Captain entered the sickbay, rather pale.

"This is the second time in three days Captain. You usually avoid the sickbay like it was the plague, although there is no such thing here. Surely that hypospray lasted longer than three days."

"I'm afraid not."

"You are suffering the classic symptoms of withdrawal. Shakes, paleness, inability to focus, if this keeps up, I may have to relieve you from duty. There, that should do you for a month." The Doctor injected Janeway with another hypospray of what was supposed to replace the need for caffeine.

"Thank-you doctor. I certainly hope I'm not here again anytime soon."

With that, the shaky captain left the sickbay.

**Day 9**

The captain fell back onto the bed in her quarters. Trying to focus on the lights on the ceiling, she couldn't. She had been relieved of duty five days ago, and The Doctor had kept her pumped so full of drugs that were supposed to help, She could see the hypospray she was supposed to inject herself with, but it kept moving. So did everything else in her quarters. She made a sudden lunge for the hypo. At this point, Janeway blacked out.

"You found her in her quarters?" Chakotay questioned,

"Yes, I was coming to check up on her. Had I gone earlier, there might have been a chance, but I was too late to do anything."

"You are now the captain Chakotay." An impassionate Tuvok did not allow his face to give away his feelings on the subject. 

"Thank-you Tuvok, what was the cause of death Doctor?"

"Stoppage of heart caused by a chemical imbalance in her brain. The imbalance was the lack of caffeine."


	3. Commander Chakotay

Commander Chakotay

The Commander was confused. This was an issue of morality, but would the moral thing be to help, or not to? Helping would cause the enslavement of one species, and not helping would mean the death of another. The Prime Directive was there, but out here in the Delta Quadrant, the Prime Directive was something you considered after.

"Commander?" The Captain's question brought Chakotay back to the current state of reality. "I asked what your opinion on this matter was."

"Sorry Captain, I was lost in thought. I think we should stay out of this one."

"If we do not help the Yrues, we would lose a valuable ally. Their influence is strong in this and several surrounding sectors." Seven's charts proved this, but it was still debatable on whether Voyager was really going to need the Yrue help. The Yrues most definitely needed Voyager's help.

"We can't just let the Yrues die of this plague!" The Doctor could always be trusted to represent the most moral choice.

"We will reconvene this meeting afterwards. I want everyone to research options and the outcomes of those options. At 0800 hours, we will return, and make a final decision on this matter. Dismissed."

The Commander had looked at many of the possible options, all of which came down to the original dilemma. To give the Yrues the needed medicine, or allow the Frones a chance to evolve and grow. A moral puzzle of rather devilish sorts. He was going to need all the help he could get. He had been on the holodeck, with projections of possible outcomes, and nothing helped. He needed a little more help. He knelt down in his quarters, unrolling his medicine bundle. The raven's wing looked rather lonely tonight.

"Acoochimoya…" He began to chant entering the spirit realm as he did.

Once again, he was in the jungle. He called out toward his guide. There was a rustle in the leaves.

"Spirit Guide Jaguar, listen, help me with my problem. Help me to find a solution. There is a people who are dying of a sickness. We have a cure, but if we give it to them, then another species will continue to be enslaved."

The rustling continued, and increased in volume and intensity. Chakotay wondered why his guide had yet not shown himself. A deep growl resounded from within the green foliage. Chakotay began to feel slightly nervous. He turned around quickly when he heard another growl from behind. He never saw it coming. The jaguar burst forth from the dense fronds. Claws extended, ripping, tearing, renting the uniform, the skin.

"He was found in his quarters. He had obviously just contacted his spirit guide, when something happened to make him believe he had been killed. His brain responded by shutting down. All autonomic responses were ceased. Essentially, he thought he had died, and he did." The Doctor was just finishing his report.


	4. Lieutenant Commander Tuvok

Lieutenant Commander Tuvok

The security teams were getting bored. They were still running full teams and drills, as if they were preparing for a major diplomatic visit. They were in the middle of nowhere! More so than usual! Seven's scans didn't show any habited planets within range. None! Tuvok was running them far harder than was necessary. Performance was falling, so he worked them harder. The more Tuvok pushed them, the more they resented Mr. Tuvok.

Eventually, Tuvok lost his entire security force, and made himself extremely unpopular. Then, Lieutenant Torres walked by in a corridor. Tuvok was out of his mind. Loneliness can get to Vulcans too, even if they don't show it.

"Good-day, Lieutenant Turtlehead."

A/N I had a better death for Tuvok, but I got lazy. If I manage to survive the remainder of the school year, I may rewrite. Maybe. Or if I get lots of reviews demanding I rewrite Tuvok's. (Hint, hint, nudge, nudge, I am addicted to reviews, heh, heh)


	5. Lieutenant B'Elanna Torres

Lieutenant B'Elanna Torres  
  
The Klingon engineer was in a bad mood, a very bad mood. The replicators had gone down, the operations console had shorted out, killing Harry yet again, and they had yet to fill their red shirt ensign death quota for the week. In addition, the sonic showers still hadn't been fixed, which made this the third week without them. Consecutive. The last enemy they had encountered managed to board Voyager, but promptly left due too the stench.  
"Ensign, get to the bridge, and fix that console, you, go find out what the hell is wrong with the replicators, and Vorik," The Vulcan turned, hoping that his assignment would still be the showers. He had yet to fix them. The other option, well, the Starfleet Handbook always said that a yellow shirt ensign could always be substituted for a red shirt. "Get those showers back online! And take Seven out of here!" The Borg had only entered with a PADD.  
"Lieutenant Torres, I believe the Brassard Collectors can be modified to collect tiny and insignificant particles of space dust that will no doubt to prove absolutely useless, but somehow throw us into a war with a species that is powerful and will not rest until." Seven continued to ramble even though she had lost the Klingon's interest after 'I believe'. Even when Vorik began to drag her behind him, she continued as if her very life depended upon it. Torres rubbed her temples; she'd have one Grethorian headache by the end of the day. She glanced back down, the ensign. Groaning, Torres formed a list mentally, naming all the ensigns she didn't care about. Nope, they were all dead. Well, they could always try replicating some.  
"Captain to Lieutenant Torres."  
"Torres here."  
"Seven has come to me with the most interesting proposal. Please report to my ready room immediately." Torres leaned over, and activated the transporter. With any luck, she'd rematerialize 3 light-years behind Voyager.  
No such luck. The transporter placed her in the center or the captain's ready room. Feet planted firmly atop the captain's desk. Heel in captain's coffee. That did not go over very well.  
"Lieutenant, I expect a full explanation for all of this, but right now I want Seven to explain an idea of hers that will allow us to collect Trisillicate."  
Seven again began her little speech, and poor B'Elanna was forced to endure it, while paying attention this time.  
"Can you do it?" After twenty minutes of Seven's incessant droning, the captain's question was a welcome change.  
"It's possible, but the changes would mean an initiated warp core before they could take effect. Once they were in place, the breach could be repaired and we could continue on our happy little way pretending to be returning while really poking our nose into all eight corners of this quadrant."  
"Do it." Lieutenant Torres sighed and began ordering various engineers to random tasks.  
  
Thirty-three Seconds Later  
  
"Captain, I'm ready to begin the breach."  
"Whenever you're ready."  
"I just said I was, but."  
"What was that Lieutenant?"  
"Nothing!" There were rumors that the Janeway Death Glare could be sent over the COMbadges. "Computer, initiate warp core breach, authorization Torres-five-angry-do-it-now!"  
"Warp core breach in five minutes."  
B'Elanna started frantically making random adjustments while all the other engineers either knocked themselves out, ran around randomly, or stood by, applauding. Only one last thing to do. Replace that gel pack in Jefferies Tube 99. Torres crawled in.  
"Warp core breach in four minutes and fifty-nine seconds." She replaced the pack, and started to crawl back out, but her foot got stuck. Torres tugged at the offending appendage, thankful she still had nearly five minutes to get loose.  
"Warp core breach in five seconds." Crud.  
"Four, three, two, one." B'Elanna Torres's last words were a steady stream of curses.  
  
A\N: Whooo! More reviews! Okay, I will rewrite Tuvok's death, but I'm afraid it won't be any more dignified JadziaKathryn. Neelix will come CaptainKJ, and thank-you sooooo much to Raven Sage for reviewing first, then managing to return and endure my awful stories! Thank-you to every one who reviewed! I'm going to give you all a big hug! *runs after reviewers who are high-tailing it away from demented darkdragon88* 


	6. Ensign Harry Kim

Harry Kim

            Ensign Harry Kim of the starship Voyager which was currently located inside the Alpha Quadrant, was walking down the corridor. He had come a long way in seven years. From the green young ensign fresh from the Academy, to part of the senior staff. That didn't make him any less green however. Voyager was returning home. Thanks to the heroic efforts of the now late Admiral Janeway, Voyager had returned to the Alpha Quadrant. They even had an escort, provided by Admiral Paris and Lieutenant Barclay.

The Admiral and Barclay were about to beam over. Ensign Kim was about to join the rest of the senior staff in the transporter room. He was looking smart, yes he was. Kim had gotten all gussied up for this meeting. He was dressed in his very best dress uniform.

He entered Transporter Room, where the rest of the senior staff, with the exception of Captain Janeway was waiting. Janewaay rushed in at the last moment, still fooling with the buttons and other various hoo-hah on her dress uniform.

"The Admiral is ready Captain." Lieutenant Torres herself was at the controls. No nameless ensign for the Admiral! But Harry could do in a pinch.

"Beam him over."

"Energizing…" The transporter platform shimmered. Admiral Paris and Lieutenant Barclay appeared where before there had only been empty space. Now it was all filled up with hot air.

"Welcome back Captain." Harry just stared. True, he had seen one other Admiral, Admiral Janeway, but he knew the present Janeway, and formalities were wasted on her, just like they were wasted on the Admiral.

"Ensign," Admiral Paris turned to Kim. In a reflex action, Harry Kim immediately straightened, whacking himself in the head with his hand. That wasn't the reason he collapsed however. Nor had he fainted. For so long he had not brought himself to attention, that his body couldn't take the sudden strain. They had warned him at the Academy to practice every day, to keep in shape. Harry had taken Tom's advice and ignored most of what he had been taught at the Academy. The Doctor leaned over Ensign Kim.

"His neck is broken! Beam him to Sickbay immediately!" Lieutenant Torres thought for a moment, then, hell, she'd miss the little bugger if he weren't around. She beamed the dead ensign to Sickbay along with the doctor.

A/N: There's the first in a series of unfortunate deaths. I've decided I might do more deaths of other characters, but Kim is going to come back and die, come back and die, come back and die…Just because I can! MWA HA HA HA! Alright. Yes, I've seen other people respond to their reviewers, and I'm going to try it, just to thank everyone for putting up with me and my awful plots to kill off each crew member.

CaptainKJ-Naomi won't die, unless you count the warp core breach B'Elanna set off. I wouldn't know how to kill her off. Not ironically anyway. Unless Neelix went on a rampage, using Tuvok as a body shield…

darkdancer- sorry, but Tom will die. I'll try to make it quick and painless. And all the characters come in the next story, so he won't stay dead. Be happy. Of course, It could also be an ironic death for you too.

Kyia-Kenobi- Neelix will die a long and painful death. I find him to be slightly annoying. Just a little. I have no idea how Tuvok managed to avoid killing him, especially with all those sharp knives he has in his kitchen. And I feel sorry for Janeway, having to put up with his *shudder* coffee replacements.

Raven-Sage- Thank-you so much for that idea! It combines every aspect of his personality, pulling everything he does together to contribute to his death! *laughs evilly*

The Libran Iniquity- I love shameless plugs. Put on up in a friend's bio I did. Great friend ain't I? That's what she gets for giving me her password! Delta Flyer will come.

Well now. I think this Author's Note is longer than Harry's death. It's definitely longer than Tuvok's. I haven't mentioned all my wonderful reviewers, but thank-you to each and every one!


	7. Neelix

A/N: Got a couple suggestions, and wishes to see this one die. Apologies in advance to any Neelix fans. If there are any. You are out there. I know where you live. Actually, I don't.

Neelix

Neelix stood, waiting just outside of the Captain's ready room. He was trembling, and hadn't an idea why he had been called. Captain Janeway inside, chewing out a random ensign. The bridge crew kept looking over. Finally, the door opened. The ensign slowly backed out, looking very pale indeed. The Captain beckoned for Neelix to come in. The Talaxian glanced around, Tom Paris saluted, as if he were sending off a corpse into a star. Neelix gulped nervously. Steeling his nerves, he entered the ready room.

"Ah Mr. Neelix." The Captain's face went from a near Death Glare to a more composed look.

"You wanted to see me Captian?"

"Yes, I was examining this submission of yours, suggesting that we have a birthday party for Lieutenant Paris."

"Uh…Captain? Lieutenant Paris's birthday was nearly two months ago…"

"Oh, well then, scrap that idea." She tossed the PADD over her shoulder, and a yelp emanated from the ensign she had been berating earlier, closely followed by whimpering. "Any other ideas of how we could bring the moral up then, Moral Officer?"

"Well, Ensign Pavel's birthday is next week…"

"The ensign I just finished yelling at?" Neelix nodded. "He's being punished. Have the party, but Ensign Pavel won't be coming, understood?"

"Uh, yes Captain." Neelix backed out, surprising the bridge crew. Tuvok sighed and told the engineering teams that they wouldn't be needing that torpedo casing after all.

Neelix skipped around, pressing random buttons on the turbo-lifts, greeting all and sundry, inviting them to the mess hall to celebrate Ensign Pavel's birthday, but warning them not to invite the ensign, because he wasn't allowed to come. Everyone remembered the party, but promptly forgot who's birthday it was, and Ensign Pavel returned to the depths of oblivion. Actually, he tossed himself out of the torpedo tube. No one knew though because his suicide note got sucked out with him.

Neelix happily returned to the mess hall to begin replicating and cooking. He made up a list of all the necessary foods, and went after it. After five minutes, the replicator went out.

"Neelix to Lieutenant Torres."

"Torres here."

"Could you come up and fix the replicators in the mess hall?"

"I'm a little busy…"

"Alright then."

"Neelix to Lieutenant Torres."

"Yes?"

"Could you come up and fix the replicators in the mess hall?"

"I already told you, I'm busy!"

"Sorry."

"Neelix to Lieutenant Torres."

"If this is about the replicators, I'll be ripping out your heart and feeding it to the first animal that looks even remotely close to a targ!"

"Sorry." Neelix's squeak could barely be heard. After a few minutes of debate, staring at the replicators, Neelix again tapped his COMbadge.

"Neelix to Lieutenant Torres."

"What!?"

"Do you have any time to come an-"

"NO!" B'Elanna's shout could be heard throughout the ship. Within moments, she arrived in the mess hall.

"I'm so glad you cou…" Neelix's last words were cut off, as the angry half Klingon grabbed him by the neck and dunked his head in the pot of boiling water that was simmering on the stove.  When she released him, Torres stormed back down to Engineering. Neelix's head popped up. "A simple no would have been enough." His mood dampened only slightly, he turned and began to cut random and alien veggies to put into a stew. He dumped the chopped items into the pot of boiling water that his head had been submerged in a short time ago.

Later, At the Party

"Neelix, this is worse than usual! What did you put in it?" Tom Paris said after spitting out the stew Neelix had carefully prepared.

"It's only leola root stew!" He used his ladle, and tasted it, draining the very large spoon of any and all soup.

"Leola root, well that explains it!" Chakotay joked as he moved off towards the dessert.

"Quite good, if I do say so myself! Gahgh!" Something began to constrict Neelix's throat, cutting off the passage of air. It wasn't any crewmembers hand either, although both Tuvok and B'Elanna had dearly wished to do so on more than one occasion. The Doctor rushed over, but it was too late.

"What happened?" A random concerned (not many of those) crewmember asked.

"He was poisoned!" Everyone immediately suspected the stew.

A/N: Yes, how many thought B'Elanna was going to take him out? Don't be shy now, hands up high! For those of you who are curious, it was the combination of Neelix's head being thrust into the water and the leola root that poisoned the stew. Neelix made it taste awful all on his own. Yup. Who's next? *remaining crew members cower, even Harry who's back thanks to the Doc* MWA HA HA HA! This is so much fun :D


	8. Seven of Nine

Seven of Nine

Seven of Nine was walking her perfect little walk to her perfect Cargo Bay 2 to enter her perfect little alcove, to have a perfect regeneration cycle. Entering the aforesaid Cargo Bay 2, she stopped. Something was out of place. Frowning more than usual, she used her perfectly enhanced eye to scan the bay. In a sudden moment of inspiration, she walked over to one of the containers, and pushed the offending root of Leola back into the container. Frowning with happiness, Seven walked up to her personal alcove and activated the regeneration cycle.

It didn't engage.

"Computer, run a diagnostic on regeneration alcove 2."

"Diagnostic complete. Alcove functioning within specified parameters." Seven stared, never before had anything gone wrong in her perfect existence. Well, unless you count being captured by Captain Janeway, the nightmares caused by the Dream Aliens, and there was always that one bad experience with Neelix's refried bean burritos. 

"If the alcove is functioning, than the problem must be with my Borg implants." She stopped talking the moment she realized that talking to oneself is the exact opposite of perfection. Leaving, she left the Cargo Bay in absolute perfection. Except for a greasy fingerprint on a control panel, that belonged to Seven. But then greasy fingers are a step away from perfection, aren't they?

"Lieutenant, my alcove is not functioning." Seven said to Torres, as she rushed by.

"That and nearly every single bloody system on this ship!" The half Klingon growled back. She did not have time for this! "Go talk to the Doc! Maybe he can fix your problem!" She continued walking past Seven, growling something about Borg Barbies and Bat'leths. (Sp?)

"Doctor, I believe I need your assistance."

"Yes, I'll be with you in just one moment Seven." The Doctor returned to his opera. "No Betty! Don't leave Jason! He loves you!" The show ended, and the Doctor threw his holographic hankie into the air. "Now, please state the nature of the medical emergency." The communicator on the Doctor's chest gave a holographic chirp.

"Doctor, Ensign Kim has died again, please report to the bridge."  Chakotay's voice came through the holographic communicator.

"One moment Commander, I'm dealing with the love of my li- I mean another patient currently."

"That's fine Doctor. Kim can wait." Chakotay turned to Ensign Kim, who was dead upon the bridge floor, and was being slowly devoured by two tribbles.

"Popcorn?" Tom offered Chakotay a large tub. The bridge crew leaned back, and watched Ensign Kim be devoured by an ever increasing number of tribbles. Before long, the tribbles took complete and total control of Voyager, and went on to dominate the Milky Way galaxy, and traveled to others, and dominated them too. The tribbles eventually became the only living species in the universe. Back to the Doctor and Seven though.

"Your nanoprobes have seemed to have developed a dislike for you." The Doctor was looking at a small sample of Seven's nanoprobes. "Come, take a look." Seven walked over to the microscope. Looking through, she could see about half a dozen nanoprobes, all sporting black leather jackets, cowboy boots, and mullets.

"They have lost all sense of fashion coordination!" She exclaimed, and suddenly covered her hand with her mouth. Regaining her perfect composure, she lost it again as her arm suddenly fell off and became a mass of swarming nanoprobes. Staring down, the Doctor quickly dragged Seven over to one of the bio-beds, and began injecting her with random hypo-sprays.

"Oops!" The Doctor looked down at the last label. The hypo-spray had been full of tritotriticalyne. A very deadly poison. He glanced down at the now rapidly dying mass of swarming nanoprobes. Taking a moment to mourn the loss of the love of his holographic life, he made contact with Captain Janeway. "At our next encounter with the Borg, we might need to capture another drone."

"No thanks Doctor, we got a very good working Astrometrics Lab from the last one. I think we'll be fine."

A/N: Sorry about the tribble thing. I got a little off track. The tribbles are out there! They are here! Masquerading as fuzzy lovable stuffed toys! They are biding their time, waiting, and then they will strike! And kill us all! Oh, and I changed my penname, for those of you who are too lazy to read my bio. I changed cuz I was bored. Who's next on the chopping board? Either the Doc, or a hopefully better death for Tuvok. Either way.

Adios!

The writer formerly known as darkdragon88

Chaotic Boredom


End file.
